


Unconditionally

by fallingangelx



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingangelx/pseuds/fallingangelx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson is in love with Mark.<br/>Mark is head over heels for Jackson.<br/>Jackson is good at hiding his feelings.<br/>Mark isn't.<br/>Anddd cue the drama.</p><p>Just a short, four-part mess of fluff and angst and Markson. You know, the usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undeniably

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson has a tendency to hide his inner feelings, and so far, he's pretty good at it.

Jackson Wang was never particularly fond of playing mind games. For the majority of his life, he typically considered himself an honest and straightforward guy—and he had proof to back it up. Whenever he had feelings for someone, Jackson had always been the first to confess his interest the very moment he began to feel that little ‘spark’. Beating around the bush seemed like a waste of time and energy to him, not that energy was something the boy was  _ever_ short of.

When it came to Mark, however, Jackson was anything  _but_  straightforward. When it came to Mark, Jackson had absolutely no intention of confessing. He valued their friendship more than anything, and he believed ruining it would be an absolute pain in the ass. After all, who in their right mind would be stupid enough to fall in love with a member of their own group, let alone their own _roommate_?

When Jackson met Mark for the first time, he instantly became enraptured by the boy’s soft features and slender figure. Jackson wasn’t too concerned and he hadn’t spared it much thought, since the attraction had been purely shallow up until the two became roommates during their pre-debut period. With all the late night heart-to-hearts, the playful teasing, and his adorably high-pitched laughs, Mark made it impossible for Jackson _not_  to fall in love with him. Not that Jackson would ever let him find out, of course. Despite seeming quite candid on the surface, he was the unequaled master of camouflaging his emotions—to the extent that none of his members had even suspected Jackson’s seemingly one-sided romance. 

 

 

The only person who managed to find out about them, however, was none other than GOT7’s seemingly innocent BamBam. BamBam had always been perceptive in regards to other peoples’ feelings, despite his naïve demeanor and disarming appearance, and those of his best friend Jackson were no exception.

“Jackson-hyung. Jackson-hyung,” a small voice whispered in the darkness of his room. “I’m coming in.”

Jackson opened his eyes as the younger boy clambered over him in an attempt to reach the inner side of the bunk. Since Jackson preferred having someone to sleep next to and BamBam wanted to seek refuge from Yugyeom’s lawnmower-esque snoring, they decided that the current solution would suffice. Although he’d much rather have Mark be the one lying beside him, Jackson didn’t bother complaining.

“Ne, Jackson-hyung.” BamBam paused for a second as he heard the sound of quiet snores drifting from the top bunk. “When are you going to confess to Mark-hyung?” he asked, flopping his head into his pillow.

“Neeever!” Jackson whispered back loudly in English, his sudden reply startling the younger boy. He peeped his head out and glanced nervously at the upper bunk, then went back to speaking Korean. “It’s just…never gonna happen, okay?”

 _Definitely,_ Jackson thought.  _Never in a million years._

“I know it’s going to be okay,” the younger boy responded, shuffling under the blankets. “I’m a people person,” BamBam said in English, assuredly.

Jackson’s brows furrowed and his eyes widened. “Hey, hey, hey. Look,  _I’m_  the people person,” he said, pointing a finger to his own chest. “And what does that have to do with anything??”

BamBam rolled his eyes, not that Jackson could see him in the dark anyway, and turned his body to face the wall. He stayed that way for a few minutes until the sleepy-soft tone of his voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Jackson-hyung is the bravest person I know. All I’m saying is that if you don’t do anything, you’re gonna regret it.”

BamBam, being younger and more naïve than he was, would probably be the last person on Earth who Jackson (or anyone, for that matter) would ever take advice from. Despite all this, Jackson knew the boy was right. 

 

 -

 

The next day, Jackson yawned as he pulled his tank top off and over his head while getting ready for the broadcast that afternoon. He and Mark had been scheduled to appear on After School Club’s weekly episode for the first time in months.  _How many months has it been exactly?_  Jackson wondered, pulling out shirt after shirt from the pile of clean clothes on his bed. He was too tired to count.

His ears perked up at the sound of familiar footsteps approaching his room. As he looked up, his eyes met Mark’s gaze, which quickly dropped to Jackson’s naked torso and back down to the floor.

“Aren’t you gonna get ready?” Jackson asked in English, feeling unusually embarrassed for being exposed.  _It’s fine. We're roommates. He always sees me like this. Gotta keep cool. Gotta stay swag._

His roommate glanced to the messy pile of black clothing on Jackson’s bunk. “Can I borrow something? I don’t have anything to wear,” Mark murmured in Korean, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jinyoung took my last clean shirt.”

 _Damn Junior_ , Jackson thought for the sixth time that week. And it was only Monday. “Yeah, just take anything. And stop talking in Korean. We’re going on ASC, remember?” 

“Yeah,” Mark said, glancing at Jackson again as he went to pick a light-coloured tank from the pile of black. He smirked as he tossed the only other white shirt at Jackson, finally speaking in English while heading for the door. “Put a shirt on.”

Immediately after Mark left, Jackson felt his entire face burning.  _He’s too cool._  Covering his face with the shirt Mark had thrown at him, Jackson flopped face first onto his bed. He peeked at the fabric and sighed.

“Looks like I’m wearing white today.”

 

 -

 

As usual, Jackson buzzed with happiness after shooting the first Markson Show episode of the year. He and Mark sat side by side in the midsection of their manager’s van after having finished dinner with Jimin and Eric.

Although Mark had his headphones in while he stared at the raindrops scattered across the car window, Jackson could hear the smooth beat of R&B music coming through the earpiece. He preferred actually talking to Mark, but sitting in comfortable silence with him wasn’t bad, either. Jackson was just relieved that nothing had changed between them. Even though the two of them had drifted a bit prior to GOT7’s Japan tour, their relationship since then had begun to return to the way it had been before.

Unexpectedly, Mark turned his head to face Jackson, smiling fondly at him and holding his gaze as he nudged him playfully in the arm. Jackson smiled back, but he still wasn’t used to it. He just kept getting more and more flustered each time.

 _Stop looking at me like that_ , Jackson wanted to tell him.  _Why are you looking at me like that?_

_If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll wanna kiss you._

Mark looked away quickly when their manager joked about how the smell of Korean barbeque on their clothes was making him hungry. Jackson laughed and suggested they go for another round, watching as Mark rested his chin in his palm and went back to watching the rain.

Did Mark, by any chance, hear what he said during ASC? Did he accidentally say it too loudly?  _No, I couldn’t have,_  Jackson thought. He made sure he hadn’t.

 

 -

 

“Before we end for today, let’s answer one more question from someone else. _'_ _What's one thing you'd like to tell the other?'_ " Eric Nam read loudly from ASC’s Twitter feed.

Without missing a beat, Mark smiled at his friend. “I want him to take care of himself. He’s always going on all these different shows and he never takes a break,” he said matter-of-factly, while gesturing his thumb at Jackson. He turned to face him. “You gotta take it easy. Look after yourself first,” he said, placing a hand on Jackson’s shoulder.

Eric smiled at the boy before returning to his stack of cue cards. “Very good. Well, that concludes this week’s show. Okay guys, let’s say goodbye to all our viewers.”

“Hey!” Jackson yelled, jumping out of his seat once the others began waving goodbye to the cameras. “You missed my turn!”

“Oh, did we?” Jimin teased, feigning surprise. “Okay then, Jackson. Go ahead. What’s something you’d like to tell Mark?” She clasped her hands together, smiling and watching him attentively.

Thirty seconds of silence, which consisted of the other three anticipating Jackson’s answer while focusing all their attention to the boy as he stared back wordlessly, passed before the entire room erupted into a fit of laughter.

Mark rested his head against his friend’s shoulder and let out a warm laugh, which reminded Jackson for the hundredth time why he was so, so undeniably in love with him. Jimin's voice replayed in his mind.  _What’s something you’d like to tell Mark?_  After Mark turned away when their eyes met, for the hundredth time, Jackson couldn’t help but let the words slip out.

 

“I love you, Mark."

 

His noiseless words were drowned out by a sea of chatter from the two hosts, and for the first time, Jackson was disappointed that they were.

In a way, Jackson had already confessed to him a thousand times.  From their duet stage in Taiwan the previous year to all the moments he had kissed Mark playfully on the cheek—Jackson had meant it all. Even though he often said things in a playful manner, Jackson always meant every sentence that came out of his mouth. 

 

Including this one. 


	2. Unconsciously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark really likes Jackson, and he's totally not obvious about it. (sarcasm)

After years and months spent training and performing with his group member, Jackson Wang, Mark Tuan began to realize that he was, in fact, very _very_ in love with him. It hadn't always been like this, though. The feelings started sometime after their debut, and pretty much consisted of countless instances of stomach-fluttering, heart-zinging and a whole, whole lot of shyness. He was in love with his best friend and Mark was still unsure of the exact moment he felt it.

 

 

Extremely worn out, Mark and Jackson had just arrived at their dorms after a tiring day of filming a long-awaited Markson Show episode at ASC's set after weeks of nonstop touring. They decided to go out for an ASC reunion dinner (whatever that was) with Jimin and Eric Nam after filming, where the group discussed life's hardships and stuffed themselves with plates of bulgogi (and Mark with three bowls of galbitang) until nearly bursting.

As Jackson sat cross-legged on the floor of their dorm and scrolled through his Instagram feed, Mark climbed up the edge of his bunk and reflected on what had happened on set that day. The Markson Show always consisted of, what Mark believed to be, an overdose of fanservice between him and Jackson. Although the number of times Jackson touched him in a single episode was enough to give him a heart attack, the show was something Mark secretly loved taking part of. This time, though, Jimin had stirred up a bit of tension on set by once again unearthing the topic of GOT7 pairings.

 

 -

 

"So, Jackson, I heard from the fans that JackBam is really going strong these days. Is that true?" Jimin asked, half-serious and half-smiling. 

"Yeah. I like JackBam,” he answered in his usual comedic tone, flashing his signature 'Jackson expression' at the cameras. “BamBam's cute. He crawls into my bed a lot at night."

Although he tried to hide it, Mark twitched with a hint of annoyance. It was true. Whenever Yugyeom was snoring too loudly in the other room, Mark, being the light sleeper he was, never failed to hear BamBam sneak into his and Jackson’s room and squirm his way into the sleeping boy’s lower bunk. As much as he loved BamBam, nowadays, Mark really envied him.

Jackson, who noticed Mark’s uneasiness, turned to face his friend. " _Buuuut_... Markson's still the best," he chirped, draping his right arm over Mark, who gave a small laugh of relief. 

Eric looked at the two warmly, then into the camera. "Okay. Very good. Now let's move on to Mark. Mark, what are your opinions on JinMark and MarkBam?" he asked in his professional reporter-style tone. 

Mark quickly looked up at Jackson, then to Eric. "Nope." Sure, Jinyoung was one of his closest friends and Mark loved him to pieces, just in a different way. Jinyoung was Mark’s confidant, self-proclaimed mother figure, and one of the few people he trusted enough to engage in fanservice with without it getting weird. BamBam was, well, currently Mark’s biggest rival for Jackson’s attention.

"What kind of question is that, Eric?! Obviously, it’s just Markson!" Jackson snapped playfully, squeezing his friend’s thigh with his other hand. His jealously dissipated as Mark felt his heart buzzing with happiness. A small smile slipped onto his lips.

"Yeah, just Markson."

 

 -

 

"Ahhhhh, it feels so good to be back finally," Jackson whispered loudly as he flopped onto the lower bunk. It was currently 1am at GOT7’s dorm unit, and the other members had been in bed starting from 8pm since they had to wake up for early-morning filming the following day. 

Mark heard creaking from below as the other boy tossed and turned in his bunk. "Hey. Jackson,” Mark began, recalling the frequent placement of Jackson’s hands on his lower back during their day at ASC. “Don't you think you went overboard with the fanservice today?" 

Silence. Then, creaking. "What fanservice?!” he heard Jackson say from the lower bunk. “The only one I was servicing was you, Mark!” Suppressing a laugh with his hand, Mark flashed a small grin. Being the member most often engaged in all kinds of skinship, Jackson never realized how touchy with the guys he really was.

“Hey. Markie-pooh,” he heard Jackson murmur teasingly. 

Even though he couldn’t see Jackson, Mark turned to face the side of his bunk. “Yeah?”

More creaking. “What’s your favourite moment on the Markson Show?” Jackson asked. “We haven’t gone on ASC for what, eight months?”  _Yeah,_  Mark thought.  _It’s been long. Too long._  There were moments during their tour where Mark missed Korea, and the show in general. He missed being so close with Jackson for so long. Specifically, he missed being alone with Jackson, without there being any other members (cough, BamBam) who would steal Jackson’s attention.

On the Markson Show, there were no distractions. All of Jackson’s attention was directed to Mark. And Jimin and Eric.  

 _Okay fine_ , Mark thought defeatedly,  _mostly Eric._  

“The time we rubbed our foreheads together,” Mark blurted out without thinking.  _Shit. Why the hell did I say that?_  He instinctively flopped his hands over his tired eyes. 

The lower bunk creaked again. “Why?” Mark could hear Jackson smiling when he asked.

Mark peeped at the white ceiling from the spaces between his fingers. “Dunno. It was stress-relieving, I guess.” That was a complete lie. Rubbing foreheads with Jackson on ASC did the exact opposite of calming Mark down. The vivid memory of his heartrate increasing right when he pulled Jackson's face closer to his own sent sparks of heat to Mark’s cheeks.  _Damn ittt,_ Mark thought as he threw his left arm over his face.  _Why am I getting flustered just by remembering it??_

 

An unusually loud squeak of Jackson’s bedsprings caused Mark to startle and turn right in surprise, only to meet his friend’s mischievous smile. “Are you stressed right now?” Mark jolted up from his initial position in bed, shifting his weight towards the wall. Jackson laughed, pulling himself over the railing of the top bunk. His hands were reaching for Mark’s face when the other boy swatted them away.

“What are you doing?” Mark’s voice cracked slightly. He yelped as Jackson climbed on top of him, his muscular physique looming over Mark's thinner body.

Jackson grabbed Mark’s face in his hands. His fingers felt rough against his cheeks, just as Mark had remembered. “Come on, Mark. When you're stressed out, you gotta relieve yourself, you know?”  _Relieve myself, huh_ , Mark thought.  _If I wanted to relieve myself, this wouldn't be my way of doing it_. It was one thing when Mark had initiated the forehead-rubbing in the past, but the feeling of Jackson’s hands caressing his face made him want to melt into his sheets. 

Jackson flipped his snapback around as he smiled and pressed his forehead onto Mark’s. Mark closed his eyes and bit his lip. After a few seconds, Jackson began to rub his forehead against him as his breathing began to sync with the other boy’s.

 

This definitely felt _way_ longer than the last time they had done it. Mark wanted badly to open his eyes and see the expression on Jackson’s face.  _Was he smiling? Blushing?_  If Jackson was staring at him, Mark was sure he’d die on the spot. Squeezing his eyes shut, Mark felt his heart beating uncontrollably. He wondered if Jackson could hear it as he inhaled the soft scent of Jackson’s cologne, which had faded slightly throughout their day of filming.

Unconsciously, Mark began moving his hands up to Jackson’s face, tracing his fingers from the bottom of his ear to his jawline. His right hand moved down to Jackson’s collarbone, while the left found its way to the nape of his neck. Jackson paused for a moment. Mark  _knew_  he had to be looking at him now. He gave into his curiosity as he forced his eyes open, only to meet Jackson’s barely centimeters away from his face.  Instinctively, his gaze shifted from the other boy’s eyes down to his lips, then back up as he leaned his face closer to Jackson’s.

Mark shut his eyes the moment just before their lips met. With both hands now on the sides of Jackson’s face, he pulled the other boy closer. Jackson’s solid grip on Mark’s face loosened, but continued to remain on his skin. The tension in Mark’s heart multiplied exponentially at the fact that he couldn’t see Jackson’s expression. The atmosphere in the room grew heated as their breathing became shallow and Mark’s lips continued to graze Jackson’s. The feeling of Jackson’s rough lips on his was definitely something he didn’t mind getting addicted to.

The slight sound of approaching footsteps was enough for Mark to quickly pull his face from Jackson’s. In the split second they separated, their eyes met. Jackson flashed a bewildered expression at his friend, his lips still red and puffy. As he swung himself off the top bunk and into his own, JB pushed the door open. Their leader appeared to be in a state of both weariness and irritation.

 

“What do you guys think you’re doing?” JB spat in a hushed tone, leaning into the room. For a moment, Jackson was silent.

The younger boy’s voice cracked slightly when he spoke. “We just came back from—“

“I don’t care,” JB hissed sharply. “If you’re going to come back this late, then respect our sleep schedule.”

 _Wait. What?_  Mark stared forward blankly at the wall across from him in a daze, finally coming to his senses about what had just happened between him and his roommate.   

“Yah,” JB mumbled, glaring up at Mark who continued to look ahead, straight-faced. “Are you listening to me?”

Mark snapped back to reality and turned to face his leader, who was red-eyed and  _very_  furious. “Ah. Yeah,” he stuttered with his words, still in shock from what had happened earlier.

“Go to sleep. If you wake up the other members, I won’t let you off easy next time.” JB grunted as he switched off their dorm light and left the room. As Mark lay his head against his pillow, he still felt his heart pumping violently in his chest. Jackson’s usual shifting in the bunk below was replaced with silence. 

 

For the entire night, Mark lay in bed thinking about Jackson’s lips on his until the first rays of sunlight shone through the blinds.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well...that escalated quickly.


	3. Undeniably

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-kiss drama. (don't worry, it happens to the best of us)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To get the full chapter experience, listen to Secret Love Song Pt. II by Little Mix while reading, like I did when I was writing this. (don't judge me okay I just have a lot of emotions ;_;)

Leaning his back into the sofa cushions, Jackson grumbled as he flipped through his notebook, glaring at the song lyrics scribbled throughout the pages in dark blue ink. He was supposed to finish writing new rap lyrics for the song he was planning to pitch to JYP later that week, but couldn’t concentrate. Most—if not all—of the lyrics in his notebook were about Mark, who was pretty much the only person who could draw out Jackson’s more romantic and vulnerable side.

The only part he hated about composing his lyrics (other than having the end result being rejected by JYP, who'd always reason that it didn't fit GOT7's "style") was having to cross out all the _him’_ s and _he_ ’s and replace them with _her_ ’s and _she_ ’s when he was finished. He traced his finger slowly across the words, row by row, counting the number of _her_ ’s written over layers of white-out. He counted twenty-seven. Hearing a sudden honk from outside the JYP building, Jackson scrambled to check the time on his phone and realized that they had kept the taxi driver waiting for almost seven minutes now.

“We’re late! Hurry up!” Jackson yelled in frustration as he slipped on his leather jacket while running through the doorway of Yugyeom and BamBam’s room. He furrowed his brow at the (now nine) pairs of shoes neatly laid out in front of the mirror, then glanced up at BamBam, who continued to expand the pile of clothes on his bed. “Why do you keep doing this? We’re just going shopping!!” Jackson rolled his eyes, grabbing BamBam by the sleeve and dragging him out of the room as the younger boy tried his best to squirm free.

“Wait, I need to change my shoes. Jackson-hyung. I need to wear the red ones. These ones are blue. They don’t match with my coat. Jackson-hyung, I’m wearing the wrong shoes. JACKSON-HYUNG, WAIT.”

 

 -

 

The group had begun their well-deserved three-day-long break after weeks of frenzied touring and an abundance of stress following the release of their spring comeback. While Yugyeom, Jaebum, Youngjae, and their managers went home to their families for the weekend, Jackson and the others decided to stay back at the dorm.

He and BamBam had planned to spend the day in the mall, with plans for lunch at the new barbeque restaurant followed by an hour-long movie. Jackson really didn’t care where he went these days. Anything to get his mind off what had happened two nights before would be enough.

Two days ago, Mark had kissed him. Mark had pulled Jackson’s face closer to his, run his fingers down his neck, and kissed him. And two days later, Jackson still didn’t know the reason why. The whole thing had made him unbelievably confused. Happy, but confused. Jackson had pondered over Mark’s actual intent for the past two nights, and had come to the conclusion that Mark could possibly ( _possibly_ ) be harbouring feelings for him. He'd be perfectly content if it turned out that his feelings for Mark would stay one-sided for all eternity and eventually fizzle out, but the possibility of Mark liking him back was unthinkable.

After all, dating scandals involving people from the same company were bad enough. Adding two guys, who were in the same idol group (and _roommates_ , on top of that) to the equation would probably end up in pretty much everything exploding in Jackson’s face. But, never mind that. Even the _idea_ that Mark had fallen in love with Jackson was a bit extreme. As Jackson and BamBam walked out of the JYP building, the thoughts replayed in his mind. _Mark was probably intoxicated from the two shots of soju he had at the restaurant,_ he thought. _Probably tired from the filming. Probably imagining that I was Junior. Yeah, that’s it. After all, why would he ever-_

“Wait for me!” Jackson heard Junior call from a distance as he quickly ushered BamBam into the taxi. The boy was decked out in a navy-coloured jean jacket and a pair of thick black glasses, eventually catching up with the two and flashing a warm smile at Jackson.

He and Junior had grown especially close with their recent comeback, but Jackson still felt a twinge of jealousy whenever he got too close to Mark. _Come to think of it,_ Jackson thought, _if Junior’s here then where’s—_

Mark jogged up to them, short of breath as he pulled his mouth mask on. “Hey,” he mumbled through the fabric. His eyes met Jackson’s for a moment before the younger boy averted his gaze to the pavement.

“Let’s go.”

 

 -

 

The entire taxi ride, to put it simply, was pretty damn awkward. While BamBam rode shotgun next to the driver, Jackson ended up uncomfortably wedged between Mark and Junior. The youngest chattered away in the front seat, complaining to the others about how Jackson should be held accountable for ruining his outfit that day.

Lunch wasn’t any better. With BamBam sitting beside him and Junior sitting next to Mark, Jackson and Mark were seated directly across from each other at the dining table. With every quick glance in Jackson’s direction, it was almost as if Mark was doing the opposite of avoiding him. Jackson concluded from this that Mark didn’t feel any different after their kiss and was, therefore, not in love with him. Which was a good thing, right?

“Jinyoungie,” Jackson chimed, feeling guilty about cursing out the younger boy in his mind the other day, and reached over the table to feed him a slice of pork belly. The two laughed as Junior guided Jackson’s chopsticks into his mouth, unaware of Mark and BamBam’s disapproving stares.

 

-

 

Once the boys finished eating and got their admission slips from the ticket booth, BamBam scurried over to Junior, who was striding ahead of the other three. “Hyung,” BamBam murmured, “these aren’t tickets to the new drama.”

Junior smiled while continuing to look forward. “I know that,” he replied in a low voice. “They’re tickets to the horror movie that came out yesterday.”

The younger boy’s eyes widened. “What about the plan? You know, setting a romantic mood??”

Junior looped an arm around BamBam’s shoulders and glanced behind him to make sure Mark and Jackson were a safe distance away before he spoke. “A romance movie wouldn’t work. It would make Mark-hyung even more awkward around Jackson-hyung. A horror movie, on the other hand, would give the same adrenaline rush and also relieve any uncomfortable tension. And, you know how Jackson-hyung gets scared easily. He’ll probably end up clinging onto Mark-hyung.”

“Ehey, I get it now,” BamBam said in English, nodding and smirking knowingly at Junior. “You’re a genius.”

“I know,” Junior replied proudly. 

 

-

 

Being best friends and all, Jackson and Mark went out to watch movies all the time. Except, this time, it felt different from usual. This time, even though the two others had tagged along, it almost felt like a date. When the four boys reached their seats, Jackson was the one shoved farthest into the center, with BamBam and Junior seated right next to the aisle and Mark wedged in beside him. Jackson shot an irritated look at BamBam, who simply wiggled his eyebrows in response and shot him a devious smile. Once the film started, Jackson finally put two and two together and realized that their entire day out was all part of BamBam’s plot to set him up with Mark.

Five minutes into the movie, tiny yet audible squeaks began coming from the end of the row.

“Hyung…” BamBam moaned, gripping onto his armrest as if his life depended on it. “…I don’t feel so good.”

Junior glanced quickly at the two older boys then at his watch, finally leaning closer to BamBam. “It’s not time yet. Fifteen more minutes left before we can leave without making it too obvious,” he whispered.

The younger boy squirmed in his seat and grasped at his stomach. “No, hyung. I mean… I think I actually have food poisoning,” he replied sheepishly as Junior rolled his eyes and turned to Mark.

“BamBam ate something wrong so I’m gonna take him to the bathroom,” Junior sighed.

 _Wait a second._ This wasn’t what Jackson thought was happening, was it? BamBam and Junior weren’t _collaborating_ , were they? Jackson felt like he was going to get a headache from all the thinking he was doing on his day off. Weren’t Mark and Junior a thing? This wasn’t some gigantic, elaborate and clichéd scheme concocted by the both of them just to try to get him and Mark together, right?

“Don’t worry about us and keep on watching,” Junior continued, flashing a quick wink at Jackson.

_Never mind. It totally was._

Mark watched as Junior got up from his seat, tugging the nauseated boy down the aisle by the back of his collar. “Okay,” he murmured. He turned to Jackson. “That’s weird.”

“Yeah,” Jackson mumbled. “Definitely."

 

 

Twenty minutes passed before Jackson felt the quiet buzz of his phone’s notification tone through his jacket pocket. Although he pretty much already knew what it was, he grudgingly pulled out his phone to see a text sent from BamBam’s.

 

_You can thank me later ^^ - Jinyoungie_

 

 _You’re gonna die tonight_ , Jackson replied, tapping forcefully on the screen as he typed. _Both of you._ He hit the send button just as Mark peered over his shoulder.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re, uh, not coming back.” Jackson lied as he shoved his phone back into his pocket, ignoring it completely as it buzzed again seconds later. “BamBam got worse, so Junior took him back to the—”

A collective scream from the audience pierced through the theatre as a ghoulish face suddenly appeared on the screen. Its dark pupils slowly rolled into the back of its head, eliciting a loud yelp from Mark and a high-pitched shriek from Jackson, who recoiled into the backrest of his seat. Almost reflexively, his hand shot over to Mark’s and grabbed it tightly. He felt Mark’s fingers shifting to fill the spaces between his own as he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the eerie sounds coming from the screen to subside. Gripping onto Mark with one hand and clasping his chest with the other, Jackson felt his heart continuing to palpitate violently minutes after the scene had ended.

 

“Hey.”

 

His eyes stayed closed when Mark’s quiet voice broke the silence.

 

“Hey. Ga Ga.”

 

“Jia-er.”

 

“Wang Mandu,” the boy murmured beside him, and Jackson could sense a hint of amusement in his voice. His heart managed to calm down a bit once he heard Mark’s small laugh in the darkness. “Are you that scared?”

“No!” Jackson snapped back in a hushed tone, turning to face the other way as his ears grew hot from embarrassment. Thank god it was dark enough that Mark couldn’t see them turning pink. At least, he _thought_ they had turned pink, anyways. They usually did when it came to Mark.

Right as he began to move his hand from Mark’s and back to his own lap, he felt his friend’s thin fingers unexpectedly wrap back around his wrist. In the dim blue light cast from the movie screen, Jackson could see Mark staring at him from the corner of his eye.

 

“Jackson.”

 

He turned to him abruptly, startled by the sudden change in Mark’s tone. Jackson noticed that his eyelids had lowered and his smile had faded after speaking his name.

“What?” he whispered back, raising both eyebrows in surprise. In the moment he finally locked eyes with Mark, Jackson felt so completely and strangely vulnerable. _Stop joking around, Mark,_ he wanted to say. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not with the way Mark was looking at him. Jackson’s eyes were glued to Mark’s and his arms stayed frozen at his sides. He could feel beads of sweat forming across his forehead and his mask growing heated each time he exhaled. Mark’s brown eyes were gleaming so captivatingly in the dark that Jackson felt almost possessed by them.

Jackson didn’t say anything as Mark’s hand pulled gingerly at the lapel of his jacket, drawing both their faces closer together. He didn’t say anything as Mark slowly closed his eyes and leaned in the same way he had two days ago in their dorm. He didn’t say anything as Mark tugged off his mask and closed in to the point that he could feel the heat from the boy’s ragged breathing against his lips. He didn’t say anything as he anticipated the feeling of Mark’s mouth on his own, giving him the same euphoria he had felt that night in their dorm.

In those five seconds, Jackson was in the midst of escaping from reality. He’d almost completely forgotten about the movie and everyone else around them. He’d almost forgotten that he and Mark were supposed to be roommates, and had almost forgotten the fact that roommates from the same group weren’t supposed to fall in love with each other. But he didn’t.

With their lips milliseconds from meeting, Jackson panicked and pushed Mark away.

 

_Shit._

 

The older boy stared back in confusion and turned away from Jackson, shrinking back into his seat in embarrassment.

 

_Shit shit shit shit shit._

 

Facing the movie screen again wordlessly, Jackson immediately felt like punching himself in the face.

 _What the hell did I just do??_ Jackson ran his fingers through his front bangs, which were now drenched in sweat. Fuck, _I’m stupid. The only thing I’ve been thinking about since that day is kissing Mark and when it’s finally about to happen again I back out?_

And as Jackson expected, just as the taxi ride and lunch at the restaurant had been that afternoon, watching the rest of the movie was really damn awkward.

 

-

 

The mall had closed for the day once the movie ended, and Jackson stood outside in the pouring rain while he dialed for a taxi home. As he heard Mark’s footsteps approaching, Jackson averted his gaze to the pools of rain filling the cracks in the ground. The sound of springs abruptly recoiling beside him made him flinch.

“I bought an umbrella,” Mark said, his voice growing quieter with each word.

The gentleman in Jackson reached for the handle, accidentally brushing Mark’s fingers in the process. He quickly withdrew his hand as Mark lifted the umbrella above the two of them and began heading down the street. They had walked a few meters before Mark stopped suddenly just before they reached the crosswalk.

 

“Sorry.”

Mark paused for a moment, then continued to look straight ahead.

“For today. And for…that time.” Mark was doing his best to look away, too. Jackson could feel it.

The loud pattering of raindrops against the pavement forced Jackson to reply a little louder. “It’s fine,” he lied.

Now feeling the rain soak through his shoes, he was growing more aware of the dampness from his wet clothes sticking against his skin. Jackson wanted to reply with his usual energy; he wanted to show Mark that he was perfectly fine, that he never wanted the kiss to mean anything, but his words felt trapped in his throat. All he could do was lower his head and try his best to smile.

“It’s not like it meant anything to me anyways,” Jackson replied, forcing a laugh.

That was a lie, too.

It had meant _everything_ to Jackson, and that was what scared him. From the very beginning, Jackson had never wanted to be in love with Mark. He never asked for Mark to look at him with those eyes, or to kiss him, and definitely never asked for Mark to fall in love with him.

The taxi that Jackson had called swerved around the corner, breaking the silence by directing a loud beep at the boys. That made it the second time Jackson was honked at in one day.

“You take it,” Jackson said, faking his usual carefree tone. “I’ll walk back. It’s not too far. And besides, I haven’t worked out in a while.”

“You sure?” Mark asked quietly, holding the umbrella out to him.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Jackson stared after Mark as he walked away, watching the way his sneakers splashed through puddles and soaked the cuffs of his jeans. _It’s best if things stay like this,_ Jackson reminded himself. _I need to stop thinking about him that way. That way things can go back to how they were._

 

_We’re supposed to be having fun and laughing about stupid things just like before. We’re supposed to be roommates. Best friends. Partners in crime._

_We’re not supposed to fall in love with our own group members. We’re not supposed to be going out or holding each other or kissing each other._

_We’re not supposed to be like this._

_We_ can’t _be like this._

_Can we?_

 

“Mark,” Jackson called, his voice softening as the boy turned back around.

“Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

“Yeah,” Mark murmured after a minute of silence. “Got it.”

Jackson watched Mark’s eyes grow dim as he turned around and headed back to the taxi. He wanted to run after him and stop him from getting inside. He wanted to yell out to Mark that he loved him, and that he had for so many years and that he couldn’t be without him.

He wanted to. So, _so_ badly.

 

But he didn’t.


	4. Unchangingly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is in the air. Along with bouts of angst and mixed signals.

Mark wasn’t thinking—or at least he tried not to. He tried not to think about their concert coming up two nights later in a whole other country, about whether or not he had practiced the choreography enough times, or about Jackson. Mark just lay there in silence, gazing blankly at the uneven texture of the white paint on the ceiling and stroking the fur of a sleeping Coco resting against his chest. He had been staring up at the walls of Jinyoung’s room for so many hours now that he had practically memorized every single groove marked into the plaster.

Since last week’s confrontation with Jackson, Mark hadn’t returned to his own room in an attempt to avoid the situation and now had no idea of where else he could go. Whenever things usually went wrong, Mark would always listen to music for a few hours in solidarity and then go find Jackson. _Jackson._ He couldn’t go to Jackson. Combing through his puppy’s white fur with his fingers, Mark felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

Coco jolted slightly in response to a quiet knock at the door. Mark tried to ignore it until the knocks began to grow louder and more impatient. He wiped his tears on his sleeve. On top of locking himself in another room, the last thing he wanted was for someone to know he’d been crying.

“Occupied,” he mumbled lethargically.

“It’s _my_ room,” he heard Jinyoung chide through the thin material of the door before he finally decided to get up (and wake Coco) to click open the lock. Jinyoung looked his friend up and down and let out a sympathetic sigh. “So?” he began. “Finally decided that you want to talk about it?”

Turning away from Jinyoung, Mark edged closer to the bed and threw himself face-first back onto the mattress. “I messed up, Jinyoungie,” Mark choked out, voice muffled by the sheets. “We haven’t talked for a week and I don’t know what to do. He probably hates me right now.”

“Jesus Christ, Mark-hyung.” Jinyoung seated himself next to his friend and ruffled his own bangs in exasperation. Coco crawled between them, snuggling into the warm space beside Jinyoung’s thigh as he reached down to pet her. “For the last time, you know that Jackson-hyung loves you, right?”

Mark let out a loud groan, shifting the blanket under Coco over to him, and grumbled into the mattress. “I’m tired of this, Jinyoungie. I just want us to go back to talking to each other like before. But I also don’t want it to go back to how it was before because I _like_ him so–”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Mark-hyung,” Jinyoung raised his voice, a hint of his Busan accent slipping out as it usually did whenever he was angry. “We’re all tired of this—me, BamBam, even Jackson-hyung, I’m sure. Just get it over and done with and confess to him properly. That’ll prove to you that I was right all along. I don’t care when or how you do it. For all I care, you could do it this weekend with a bouquet of roses and a dramatic entrance and the whole shebang, or whatever.”

Threading his fingers through Coco’s fur, a small smile crept onto Mark’s face. He rolled onto his side to face Jinyoung. “That…actually doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”

Jinyoung closed his eyes and let out a laugh of relief. “I was joking, Mark-hyung.”

 

-

 

With three minutes left before the concert began, the boys lined up backstage as they usually did—BamBam and Yugyeom helping each other get their energy levels up, Jinyoung and JB warming up their vocals, and Mark helping Youngjae untangle the wires from his mic and doing his best to avoid Jackson. Mark had finally managed to straighten the cord out when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

Jackson was staring blankly into his eyes when Mark turned to face him. “Good luck.” He said it with such energy that Mark wondered if them not speaking for a whole week had affected him at all.

“You too,” Mark managed to reply a little shakily, averting his gaze back to Youngjae, who had miraculously disappeared from his side and was joining the two youngest members in conversation. Jackson nodded and cracked a slight smile before turning to leave. As the stage manager yelled “one more minute” at the boys, Mark drew in a deep breath in an attempt to refocus.

 _Get it together._ _Don’t think about Jackson_ , he told himself as he pinched the skin on his wrist. _Don’t think about Jackson don’t think about Jackson don’t think about Jackson._ _If you think about Jackson even_ once _during the concert you’re getting a huge slap in the face after we all get back to the hotel tonight. Actually,_ he thought, _forgetting about Jackson altogether would be really helpful right now._

“Ten seconds,” their stage manager called out. Mark exhaled one last time before the curtains rose. With Jackson and everything else that had happened last week being the only things still running fresh in his mind, Mark knew he needed all the luck he could get.

 

-

 

Each of the members had their body coated in sweat and their cheeks streaked with tears once their concert had finally come to a close, and the seven boys stood in a line at the edge of the stage, hand in hand, with smiles stretched wide across their faces. Mark stood at one end, holding Youngjae’s wrist on his right while lifting his free hand triumphantly in the air, his microphone nearly slipping from his palm. Mark was a completely different person onstage, yet also exactly the same. He had higher energy, higher charisma, and most of all, higher confidence in himself. The one thing that stayed precisely the same was the never-ending bombardment of thoughts that ran continuously through his mind.

As Mark turned to his right with the intention of taking a final mental snapshot of the view of the stadium, Jackson was the only thing in his line of sight. Up until now, he had done well in blocking Jackson out of his thoughts during the concert. He had, and it had paid off; he didn’t make a single mistake in the choreography during their dances, he didn’t forget any of his lines, he didn’t stutter when JB passed the spotlight over to him so he could finish up their ending speeches, and he hadn’t focused on anything except making their fans happy. He was in a completely different country, speaking to their fans in a foreign tongue, and the moment he looked at Jackson’s face—gleaming with both perspiration and happiness—Mark felt the most at home that he had in days. 

 

 _I love him_.

 

The thought was ringing through his head so many times that he couldn’t focus on anything else besides the boy standing on the other side of the member lineup, beaming so brightly that his delight was almost contagious and waving his arms so enthusiastically at the crowd in a way that made the others members grin even wider. He loved him. Mark loved Jackson more than anything, and nothing— _nothing—_ in the entire damn world could ever change that.

It might have been some sort of telepathic connection that made Jackson look left to meet Mark’s eyes, his smile still glorious as ever, even after the other members had detached from each other and proceeded to engage with their fans onstage. The two stood there—eyes locked on one another, arms dropping to their sides, and smiles slowly slipping away. Mark felt frozen in place as he continued to look straight ahead, even after Jackson shifted to take a step in his direction. His pulse quickened as he watched Jackson stride toward him, a serious expression fixed on his face and his eyes never once breaking their gaze. Clutching his microphone tightly in both hands, Mark couldn’t think of any words that could accurately embody how much he actually felt for this boy other than _I love him_.

 

With Jackson’s fingers gripping his wrist, the post-concert music blasting from the surround-sound speakers, and the sea of fans cheering wildly to accompany the noise, Mark was dragged offstage and behind the backdrop of the set. After dropping his mic and getting whacked in the face with a heavy black curtain, Mark was greeted by the wide-eyed, gaping expressions of their managers and the backstage crew. Their stage manager mouthed a mortified _What The Hell Are You Doing_ at them as Jackson continued to walk straight ahead without as much as a sideways glance, and Mark continued to wriggle from his grip.

“Jackson,” Mark called. His breathing grew shallow and his heartrate accelerated as Jackson picked up speed and continued to pull him behind. “Jackson, what the hell’s going on??”

 But Jackson stayed silent. Silent Jackson was the worst; Mark knew this from experience. Silent Jackson was unpredictable. Erratic. Dangerous. _Frightening_. Silent Jackson didn’t look back when Mark told him to stop walking, or flinch when Mark yanked at his arm or yelled at him to let go. Silent Jackson didn’t look back at Mark until after he towed the older boy up six flights of metal stairs, the clanging of their boots against each step drowned out by the music, and up onto a platform situated at the very top of the venue. That was where Jackson finally glanced back and decided to curtly spin the boy in front of him.

Taking hold of Mark’s shoulders in both hands, Jackson flipped him around and pressed him gently against the cold wall of the stadium. Cleverly applying his limited knowledge of Korean dramas, Mark knew this situation could only result in (a) Jackson going all kabe-don on him and kissing him with hopeless passion or (b) Jackson being pissed off over what happened the other week and beating the shit out of him. But Jackson’s eyes moved from the floor to meet Mark’s and held their gaze unblinkingly, refusing to budge even an inch.

Jackson spoke calmly. “Do you love me?”

This was way too sudden. He was still shaken after being forcefully dragged up all those stairs and now Jackson’s pulling out truth or dare questions (minus the dare) before they even had a chance to catch their breath? Mark’s head spun as he searched his thoughts for some way to play it off coolly, sucking in a deep breath and trying his best to seem as nonchalant as possible. “Of course I love you. You’re my best friend.” This was fine, right? Because he wasn’t exactly lying. 

Shooting a sideways glance at the stadium wall then turning to stare into Mark’s eyes, Jackson sighed impatiently. “Okay. Let me rephrase it,” Jackson said. This time his voice came out lower and softer.

 “Are you _in love_ with me?”

 _Shit_ , Mark thought. _Shit, I guess there’s_ _no getting out of this one._ If he said yes, would Jackson punch him in the face? No, Jackson would never punch Mark in the face. In the five years they’d known each other, Jackson had never laid a hand on Mark when they fought. But this time, maybe he’d throw a light slap with only the fingertips and no palms. A slap with palms would bruise like no tomorrow—Mark knew that firsthand—and they had a show to go on the next day. _Okay,_ he warned himself, _enough worrying about him slapping your face._ He needed to find a way to answer. Or, maybe he could just pretend he didn’t hear. After all, the entire stadium right now was filled with Youngjae’s voice echoing through his microphone and—

 

“Mark.”

 

Jackson repeated it again, his eyebrows upturned and his tone even gentler now, mouthing the words over the blaring sound of Youngjae singing and the fans chanting meters below them and enunciating each syllable slowly and clearly in case Mark hadn’t heard it the first time.

 

 “Are. You. In. Love. With. Me?”

 

 _Yes_ , Mark wanted to say. _Yes, god, I am so damn in love with you, you have absolutely no idea. Wait. Shit._ No, no, _no_. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Mark was supposed to confess that weekend with a bouquet of roses and a dramatic entrance and the whole shebang, or whatever—not cornered at the top of the stadium at their first overseas concert in months with seriously mussed up hair and every inch of his body stinking of sweat, for Christ’s sake. But a part of him wanted to get it over with—wanted to just blurt out the words once and for all and end all the confusion, the mixed feelings, the weird atmosphere between them and go back to how everything used to be. So Mark mustered up every last ounce of courage in him, released one last shaky breath, and said it.

 

His words falling out almost naturally, Mark said it.

“Yeah. I am.”

 

He expected some sort of silence to fall between them, as it usually had lately. If it weren’t for the thousands of fans screaming below, they would have been standing through minutes of it. But there was no silence, and the boys stayed frozen in the same spots they’d been standing in for the last five minutes and felt the thumping from the speakers vibrate through their toes. Jackson’s eyes stayed glued onto Mark’s averted gaze.

“You’re not kidding? This isn’t a joke, right?”

Mark shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to really look Jackson in the eyes. He couldn’t tell from Jackson’s tone whether he wanted to reject his feelings or reciprocate them. The only thing he did know was that the boy he loved was staring straight into his eyes with the same unreadable expression he had when Mark tried to kiss him in the theater.

Not a second sooner, Jackson broke into a smile. Mark watched his best friend’s serious expression collapse into a stuttering, blushing, beaming mess. “Yesss. Yes, thank god,” Jackson whined, elongating that last  _god_ and resting his forehead against Mark’s chest in defeat. “This entire time, I was killing myself thinking you were pissed at me.”

Mark’s eyes widened, half because of the unexpected turn of events (the fact that the situation resulted in (a), or at least had a high chance of resulting in (a), instead of (b) like he predicted) and half because of the sudden rush of exhilaration mixed with relief that coursed through his body. So it turned out Jinyoung was right, after all. _Of course_. Jinyoung was _always_ right. Not that Mark could ever admit that out loud.

Right, what was Jackson saying to him? Something about being pissed? _Well, of course_ _I was pissed at you_ , Mark thought. _You’re an idiot and you make me so damn pissed and I love you, but that doesn’t make you any less of an idiot_. He wanted to yell it at him out loud, but he didn’t. Mark didn’t know what to feel, really—angry at Jackson for sending all those mixed signals and overall being a confusing little shit all month long, overjoyed that it turned out he had liked him all this time, or upset at the fact that he basically confessed his feelings to Mark without _actually_ admitting it properly.

Mark had always secretly been a hopeless romantic at heart, so it was only natural that he fussed over the small details. “I feel kinda stupid,” Mark huffed playfully. “I literally just told you how I felt about you but you never said it back.”

His eyes growing wide in response, Jackson mouthed a quiet “oh, riiiight” before returning to his usual grin and releasing Mark’s hand to reach up and grab the front of his baseball cap. _Shit_. He flipped his cap backwards. _I regret saying anything_. Jackson squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth. _Shit, I should’ve seen this comin—_

“I LOVE YOUUU, MAAAARK!” Jackson threw his head back and hollered it at the top of his lungs, the high-pitched sound blending with the voices of the girls cheering from the bottom of the stadium, and buried his face into Mark’s shoulder. He peeked up at him timidly as he clung to his shirt, his round eyes gleaming with excitement. “Is it okay if I kiss you?"

Mark’s face scrunched up in amusement. “Why are you asking _me_?”

Jackson shot him a deadpan look. “Then who do you _want_ me to ask? Junior? Oh, hey, what’s up, Junior-ssi? I’d just like to formally ask for your permission to kiss Mark,” he mockingly yelled down at the stage as Mark attempted (a little too slowly) to shut him up.

Peering over the railing then ducking his head in after the realization that they could be spotted by their fans at any moment, Mark dragged Jackson away from the ledge. He made a show of rolling his eyes dramatically before raising his voice to just above a whisper. “Seriously, Jackson, can you not?”

“At least I’m being respectful,” Jackson retorted, pouting. “Not like you asked me those last two times.”

“ _Sorry._ ” Mark smiled as he lowered his eyelids and reached up to loop his arms around Jackson’s neck. “Now are you gonna keep talking or are you gonna kiss me?”

 

Jackson let out a small laugh before leaning in and pressing his lips to Mark’s, eliciting a contented sigh from the older boy. Letting Jackson take the lead, Mark shut his eyes tight and cupped the other boy’s face in his hands. Mark typically kissed like a cheetah cornering its prey—he himself was very well aware of that fact. He’d cut past the fluff, leap right in and do whatever the hell he pleased. It was a _bit_ terrifying now that he thought about it, and Mark suddenly sympathized with Jackson during the last two times he had instigated it. Jackson, on the other hand, was unexpectedly slow and gentle—making sure Mark was 100% comfortable, keeping it chaste and not straying from the surface, and fumbling when it came to the little details, which Mark thought was pretty damn adorable.

It wasn’t until Mark’s fingers found their way in Jackson’s hair and his teeth tugged at Jackson’s bottom lip that he realized he had permission to go deeper once exhaling a quick _iloveyoumark_ as he pulled Mark’s waist closer to his. Today, Mark promised himself that he’d focus on the concert and _only_ the concert—which meant servicing the fans, making sure he was on top of all the choreography and getting rid of any thoughts about Jackson. Right now, he couldn’t think about anything _but_ Jackson. How Jackson intertwined their fingers with absolutely no intention of letting go. How Jackson pressed Mark’s body against the side of the stadium in a way that made his head spin and completely drowned out the deafening sounds that echoed throughout the venue. After a while of laughter-filled lip-locking, sighing the other’s name into their mouth, and murmuring a handful of _I love you_ ’s against each others’ lips, Mark and Jackson broke away from each other, faces flushed completely red and grinning from ear to ear.

 

The two stood still in their places, just silently but intently taking in the view of the other. “Should we head down now?” Mark broke the silence a bit shyly, still flustered about what had happened beforehand.

“Head down to what?” Jackson replied, stepping back to face a now-empty stadium and adding onto the question with a quiet “we probably made out so much that it scared everyone away” that made Mark laugh out loud. He grasped Mark’s hand in his and began descending down the staircase, stopping in his tracks midway through the first flight when he felt the other boy lean his face into his shoulder.

Mark wrapped his arms around Jackson’s chest, gripping firmly onto the front of his shirt. “I missed you.” His voice was even quieter than a whisper, sounding a little muffled and a little wavering, but Jackson could hear traces of a smile under his words.

Jackson turned slowly and lifted his gaze onto the older boy, pulling Mark into a tight embrace without a second of hesitation. Burying his face into Mark’s neck and inhaling the scent of his skin, Jackson squeezed him so hard he wondered for a moment whether Mark was still breathing. “I missed you, too.” He grinned, pressing a kiss onto Mark’s temple. “Wanna stay here a little longer?”

Mark slipped him a small smile. “I’m up for that.”

 

-

 

It had been less than four months since their last visit to ASC, and the Markson Show was still as lively as ever–mostly due to Jackson being a powerhouse of never-ending energy and self-deprecating humour while everyone else watched quietly and drowned in their own bouts of secondhand embarrassment.

They’d only gone 30 minutes into the program before thoughts of regret for “ever signing up for this job” surfaced in Jimin’s mind and Kevin had just about died for the third time from laughing his lungs out. Mark sat calmly in his seat as usual, sparing a few high-pitched giggles here and there and shaking his head at Jackson’s shenanigans, which he had grown more than accustomed to by now.

Jimin struggled to catch her breath, coughing once to clear her throat. “Mark. I need to know,” she asked exasperatedly. “How do you manage to deal with this guy every single day?”

He rubbed the back of his ear, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Well, I usually just ignore—” Mark started when the other boy cut him off, pretending to be offended and mumbling a low “wooow, Mark” before the two simultaneously erupted into a fit of laughter.

After flipping back through his stack of cue cards, Kevin teasingly raised an eyebrow at the two. “It seems like you guys grew a lot closer after your comeback.”

“Yeah,” Mark replied, beaming and glancing beside him. His eyes met Jackson’s, and a wide smile stretched across both their faces before he looped an arm around the other boy’s shoulders.

“Just a little bit.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, it's been a great run—both writing and re-editing this. ^^ this was my first ever fanfic so it'll always have a special place in my heart. the positive feedback from when i first posted this work inspired me to continue writing, so hopefully i'll be dishing out more stories (and more markson, haha).
> 
> a big thank you to everyone who read till the end!!~


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